To the Ones Becoming

I turned a new age on Monday, and I am happy about it. I don’t exactly know how I feel, but I know I am happy. I’ve been thinking a lot about my 20s, especially after reading Oladimeji Ajegbile’s reflection on Substack about how our 20s won’t last forever, how they are for building, proving, urgency, and showing up publicly while pretending not to be afraid. How they are for building habits that don’t disappear overnight. That last part is where my focus lies today: habits that don’t disappear overnight. First, I want to say this plainly, building good habits is hard. (This is my personal, unstable philosophy, lol.) Building bad habits, on the other hand, is one of the easiest things on earth. I once read about how the brain works when it comes to habits. When the brain discovers that a habit makes us happy, relaxed, or comfortable, it encourages it. But when it discovers that a habit makes us tired, worried, or stretched, it tries, out of its own version of goodwill, to protect us fro...

Some things I thought I had figured out at the start of the year… I quickly realized I hadn’t. I started the year silently. No loud  “this year is about this or that”  on my status. I just showed up to greet a few people on my contact list a Happy New Year, a Happy New Year on my status, and that was all. I did that intentionally, to prove something to myself. I was done with the “new year, new me” mantra because it doesn’t work. I didn’t try to wake up early on this day, nor did I shower or even have breakfast early. If not for my parents, I wouldn’t have even gone out of the house. It was a new year, true. I felt all the emotions of  “this is a new year, true” . But I also knew, deep down, that it didn’t mean anything had changed within me as a person. I still have fears. I still have habits that drain me. I still have passions I wish to start. And, mostly, there is still a version of me I am yet to become. So, I didn’t try to gas myself up at all. Instead, I sat with r...

A voice came to me as I walked into my CDS venue late. “Juliana, they would need someone to help them take photos and make videos today. You should volunteer.” Normally, I would beat that voice down to stupor until it couldn’t raise its head anymore. But this time, I didn’t. Before I explain what happened next, I need to go back a few hours earlier. It was a Friday morning, last week. I was on my way to my Community Development Service (CDS) weekly meeting. I am subscribed to Oladimeji Ajegbile’s  Figuring Life Out . To be honest, I subscribed simply because I know how committed he is to helping people, especially young creators, grow and scale. Anything Oladimeji has to say, I will read. For the first time, I decided to read one of his reflections. It was titled  Your 20s Don't Last Forever . I read it as I commuted to my CDS venue. One of my goals this year is to learn how to read in public spaces, maximizing free moments for reading instead of social media. So I gave the ne...

I have heard and learned what commitment is before. But a few days ago, I learned it on a higher level. I am currently on a public reading accountability journey, and I was supposed to write a general review of everything I read this week. But I couldn’t help myself, I had to write a separate reflection for this one chapter alone. Chapter 19 of The 12 Week Year is profound. I found myself exclaiming out loud, highlighting almost every line. Truly, I almost highlighted the entire chapter because everything stood out . And I knew it would be a disservice, to my present self and my future, to reduce this chapter to just one key principle using my usual review template. ChatGPT had advised me before I started this reading journey that if I tried to write out all the points from a chapter, I might stall, and for someone trying to build momentum and consistency, that advice is valid. But this chapter? This chapter is everything . We say things like: “I am committed.” “One of my qualities...

I’ll just cut to the chase: 1. Learning to Build Friendship, Not Hierarchy Things that seem justifiable are often the hardest to unlearn. For me, it starts with how I relate to my younger sister — the things I’m intentionally trying not to do. I’m trying to stop her from being overly respectful with me because why? Because I don’t really trust it — or myself. What if I get too comfortable and then I abuse that over-respect? Maybe not now, but sometime in the future when she no longer needs me for most things like she does now. Right now, she takes most things I say because, quote-unquote, she’s younger, needs my help, yada yada yada. And because it’s always been this way, it’s easy to think it will continue like that forever. But one day, I might be left with my mouth agape in shock when it no longer does. Because the truth is, she might just be bearing with me right now because she doesn’t have more options. She’s in her dependent era of life, and everyone might be trying to shape her...

I like Friday mornings. Why do I like Friday mornings? Because between the hours of 5 AM to 6 AM, I get to open my mouth to talk — to share my opinions. And that alone takes away sleep. It removes the temptation of going back to bed. Yes, it removes the temptation of going back to bed, and that’s why I like Friday mornings. Here’s the thing: that one hour of talking keeps me awake and helps me rise early. Now, I know you might be reading this and rolling your eyes. Honestly, if I were in your shoes, I’d probably roll my eyes too at someone saying something like this. But if you’ve ever experienced the joy of stepping out of your comfort zone, stretching yourself, doing more than you thought you could do — then you’ll understand what I mean. It’s a joy. A deep sense of happiness. For me, waking up at 5 AM on Fridays to join a group of people and speak — instead of slipping back into sleep — gives me that joy. The joy of stretching. The other day, I planned to edit just the first 5 minut...